the motion of my intrepid soul

does dance and flicker as time unfolds

the knowledge of the wastelands I’ve traversed

constantly reminds me this life was rehearsed

and in the in I’ll find I’m cursed

its not enough to bow

or quit and bow out

Its not enough to bleed all  the way out

this day will never be done

wish that it hadn’t begun

I’ll always be diseased

if you please come  to  me and ease this pain

I’m done with the  trite act of begging and waiting

but why reach out with arms covered with sores

just below the surface is the soul I abhor

I’ll be left with this one final chore

stand up tall for the ones I love

and  kick back slip back  into falling out

of love and  doubt and pain and shouting out

all the violent tendencies I accrue in each new day

I’ll be fading away as I scream my rage in intense agony

and spit it to the sky I’ll be lucky if I don’t form a slipshod

rebellion of crooked cods

or flounders  will do I’m well trained in that hue

I’m a blister a broken back of a bird

that once had wings and decided that singing

would be worth the god damned cage it earned

and its been assured that this wont end well

I’m not enough of a man to fill a thimble

so when the  day is done and I’m wrapped in a cloud

I promise you I’ll never come down

I’ll never dance with any one but you

although this dance is an exercise in futile

I’m enough of a beast to not relish being diseased

so I’ll seed this nightmare with travesty

a calling card for my creed




  1. Pingback: A Poem from my mate Zachary Binks | Pell's Place

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